Your date clothes had been delivered

"Oh, we returned your clothes."

"Returned?" you say with a heightened edge to your voice. Are they gone? Do you have to spend the rest of the day in a ballroom gown?

"Oh don't worry, your new clothes arrived."

"Sorry?"

"You... had a clothes delivery didn't you?" A sinking feeling hits you, but you let her continue. "They delivered clothes saying it was for you, and offered to bring back the clothes you were wearing to your house, you know, so you weren't carrying around a second set of clothes all day. Was that okay?"

You pause, forcing yourself to remain calm and find out exactly what is going on: "The clothes they delivered.... can I see them?"

"Oh, I put them in here!" and she opened a big cabinet.

You look in dismay and some panic. Some clear shoes that had poles for heels and a big platform under their front sole, elevating feet to a whole new level. You had worn two pairs of high heels already today and these looked the least stable. Beside the shoes was a pool of silver sparkling fabric that you weren’t sure you wanted to touch yet. The last item was a compact silver clutch purse. "I moved everything from your other purse to this one, so you wouldn't be carrying two purses around," Dorothy says.

The purse contents are the last things on your mind, you need to get out of here wearing something and your options are a ballroom gown or a spandex dress.

You're just about to ask Dorothy if she has anything else when suddenly it hits you: You don't need to worry. You're planning to head straight home anyway. Okay so maybe they know your address and phone number, but nothing needs to **** you to do another thing today that you don't want to do.

Courage returns to you. You smile at Dorothy, thank her and tell her she's done a great job but that you need to change. Thankfully, she offers to pull the zip down before she leaves which makes it much easier getting the dress off.

Standing in your undergarments, you look at the date clothing and gulp. The spandex dress seems to flow from your hands as you pick it up. Figuring out which way is "up", you pull it over your head and down onto you. It clings to you with its elasticity that covers every curve, and barely covers down your thighs, but thankfully it covers you up to your neckline and right down your arms to your wrists. You can't believe that this is what you now consider to be "could be worse"

The shoes are next, and you have to practically climb up onto them. Putting them on tilts you precariously forward that you have to lean back to counter. The arch your back makes as you balance emphasises your chest as it sticks out. You know you can never let Raymond see you like this. You just need to get on a taxi home and forget about everything. You clothes should be enough to let you do that at least

Right, you think, a taxi. You bend over to reach for the purse and pick it up. As you look up you catch a reflection of yourself in the window. An attractive women in a tight silver dress in heels that seemed to scream "lets have some fun", ready for a night out. You start breathing sharply, you needed to get out.

While loath to do so, you open your purse and take out the accursed phone. It has some notifications, such as one saying the clothes have been delivered (thanks!), a reminder for your 7pm date, and some other "work" stuff you don't have time for right now (or ever).

You try to figure out which app will get you a taxi or rideshare or whatever, but getting exhausted you just say "EDNA: I need a ride home." A few minutes later, your phone tells you that your ride as arrived. Breathing with relief and ready to put this whole thing behind you, you walk out the door and down the corridor.